For the Love of Despair
by Above Reproach
Summary: Welcome to Enterprise Preparatory School, where graduating will give certain success in life. However, as the Freshman class is about to find out, the sinister forces of despair are pulling the strings. Who will survive, and who will succumb to the power of despair? /SYOC closed/
1. Chapter 1

**_Authors Note: Hello readers! For specific reasons I had to delete and repost this story. However, I have chosen all of the characters that I will be using, so just hold tight until I post the next chapter!_**

_ Hello there! As you no doubt have figured out, I'm Above Reproach and this is my very first fanfiction. I had been planning a sort of SYOC for the Hunger Games fandom, but when I read Dangan Ronpa, I switched gears. This fanfiction has been inspired by the likes of __**Gingericus19**__, who is writing __**The Blade of Tribulation**__, as well as __**Hoprocker**__ and __**Ptroxsora**__, who are writing __**O Fortuna Velut Luna**__ and __**C'est La Mort**__ respectively. I hope that you three do not think that I am copying you, and if you find that my fanfiction is too similar to yours, I will gladly change or take mine down. Without further ado, here is the beginning of my first fanfiction:_

It was the deal made with the students of Hope's Peak Academy that ultimately crippled the organization known as Super High School Level Despair. All of Japan watched as the six teenagers threw off their shackles of oppression and walked away into the sweet embrace of freedom. It was then, for the first time since the worst most despair-inducing incident in the history of mankind, that the people of Japan felt something blossom. It was hope.

In a building settled near one of the many beaches Japan's Hokkaido Region had to offer, twenty-odd people gathered. They were male and female both, with members from every walk of life. An older man angrily pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand, his dark curls trembling with the impact. "Dammit!" He swore, "Why did we let those two idiots run the operation down at Hope's Peak? Their mistakes could potentially cost us our hold over the Japanese!"

A boy of no older than 15 sat with a large toy in his lap. It looked like both a black and a white teddy bear had been split down the middle and then sewn together. A compartment in the toy's back had been popped open, and the boy was inspecting the pieces inside for signs of rust or other damage. As he pulled out a cog, which had been chipped, he countered the man's angry exclamation, "If it is necessary, we can move our base of operations. We did have plans to extend our empire of despair, after all." He rummaged through a box containing spare parts, found a suitable replacement, and snapped it in place. The toy's one red eye began to glow, and the boy closed up the compartment in it's back with a smirk.

"Yes, extend, as in still having control over the original area of conquest. What you're suggesting is surrendering Japan to the forces of hope!" The older man raised his voice, brow crinkled in frustration. As he was doing this, a stout woman carrying a tablet rushed into the room. Her presence commanded attention, and the two stopped their bickering to listen to what she had to say. She huffed, "We're facing massive uprisings in the Nanpo Islands Region as well as in the Chugoku Region!"

A small ping from the tablet alerted the woman, and she hurriedly checked it. "The Hokkaido Region is falling apart as well! The rebels are within five miles of our gates!" She fingered the tablet, setting off a shrill alarm throughout the building. The woman pressed the intercom button on the wall nearest to her. Her voice resonated throughout the building, not quite masking the sound of the alarm. "The Hokkaido Region is being faced with massive uprisings. The rebels are barely five miles from our gates! Smash your hard drives and burn all documents! They cannot know what we're planning! Once you've disposed of everything meet the rest of us on the plane out back."

With that, the woman threw her tablet on the ground, smashing a hole clean through it with her stiletto heels. The man turned to his desk, scrabbling to remove the hard drive from his computer. The boy he had bantered with earlier was running for a shredder, a manilla folder labeled 'Monobear' clutched in his fists. Others throughout the room were likewise crushing their drives and searching for either a shredder or an incinerator. Once the two had disposed of all their valuable information, they exited the room, joining the small stream of people rushing for the jumbo jet owned by Super High School Level Despair.

In their panic people pushed and shoved one another, their voices raised to be heard above the still-blaring alarm. With a yelp, the boy crashed to the ground, and he cried out as he was stepped on and kicked out of the way. The older man grit his teeth, and stopped moving with the flow of people. He leaned over, reaching down to the boy and helping him up.

When the two reached the plane, they were greeted by the head of the organization. She was a rather young woman with a professional, yet haughty manner about her. She stood at the front of the jet, counting heads and furiously scribbling on a clipboard. "What are we going to do?" The man demanded, his boss not missing a beat. "We're going to start over," She stated, "How does Europe sound to you boys?" The man huffed in an irritated way, and the boy smirked at him. "Don't think of it as a surrender, dude. It's nothing but a tactical retreat." With that, the duo filed into the back of the jet and took their seats.

-3 years later-

Enterprise Preparatory School, commonly known as En. Prep. It is said that those who graduate from this Preparatory School are certain to gain entrance into all of the best colleges. Not to mention that many are granted scholarships to their college of choice. So it goes without saying that attending En. Prep. makes for a successful life and livelihood.

However, making it into this Preparatory School is notoriously hard, seeing as they only offer entrance to students who are considered the best in their respective fields. These students, when attending En. Prep. are called 'Super Prep School Level' to commemorate their success in each of their fields.

In just a few days, the freshman class will be arriving at Enterprise Preparatory School. Who are they, and what will they find when they get there.


	2. Chapter 2

A well-muscled girl of no more than 19 forced an aged lawn mower around her overgrown lawn, her curses whenever the contraption stalled drowning out even the noise of her headphones. "Lisa!" Her stepmother scolded from a porch swing, her words laced with a venom reserved for her stepchild, "The whole town will hear your curses! Hush!"

In a rather half-hearted attempt at being dramatic, Lisa rolled her eyes and kept chugging along at the chore. It was only a few minutes before the lawnmower, the rusty, peeling old thing that it was, coughed and died. A whisp of foul smelling smoke trailed from the motor. Lisa's stepmother could do naught but brace for the onslaught of words that would follow.

"God damn it! I hate this thing! I hate this rusty old pile of crap! Gaaaaah!" Lisa yelled, shoving the lawnmower so violently that it tipped onto its side. She may have gone so far as to kick the downed contraption, but before she could, a deep laugh stopped her.

A postal worker leaned on the family's metal mailbox, a thick envelope clutched in his meaty fingers. "Ohohohoho! What a show! You've got your hands full with this one, Lana." He mused, laughing even as Lisa's flustered stepmother huffed a 'well I never...' and scrambled indoors. Allowing himself one last chuckle, the portly postal worker handed the envelope to Lisa, "Well, here you are."

Lisa grabbed the envelope, tearing it open. Several items had been packed inside, a letter written on thick black-rimmed white stationary lay on top, however. A little confused, yet eager all the same, Lisa grabbed the letter and began to read.

**Dear Annalise Carlton-Evans,**

**On behalf of Enterprise Preparatory School admission committee and the entire school community, we are very pleased to accept your application to Enterprise Preparatory School. After a careful review of your credentials, we welcome you to the freshman class of 2013.**

**Our goal here at Enterprise Preparatory School is to guide our students, who are known as the best in their respective careers, towards a more successful and affordable college life. Furthermore, we also build the skill sets needed to advance in the working world.**

**Welcome to Enterprise Preparatory School, Super Prep School Level Runner.**

"Oh my god! Oh my freaking god! Lana! Daddy! Oh my god!"  
A stocky middle aged man raced out onto the porch, his face furrowed in worry. "Pumpkin? What's wrong? Why were you yelling?" Lana followed suit, only much more slowly, her lips pinched together in a scowl.

"I made it in! I'm going to En. Prep!" Lisa squealed, bouncing up and down. Her father grabbed the acceptance letter, eyes flicking from side-to-side in their sockets as he skimmed the letter. "Oh Pumpkin! I'm so proud of you!" He picked his daughter up by the waist and enveloped her in a bear hug. "I'd say this calls for a celebration, doesn't it, Lana?" He smiled, kissing the top of Lisa's head and her chocolate brown hair.

Lana narrowed her eyes for just a second, before replying in a voice that dripped with honey, "Well I'd certainly say so! Why don't we go out for dinner tonight?"

* * *

A girl stood outside of the old-fashioned brownstone that was Enterprise Preparatory School. It looked as if it had originally been an apartment building, the type that sell for hundreds of thousands in New York. However, the foundations had been altered, adding other wings to the school, making it no more than five times as wide and three times as long.

"Well, let's go in, shall we?" The girl who had stared up at the school had a quaint family entourage behind her, and it was her father who had spoken. "What? No! It'th okay Dad. I'll be fine!" The man's daughter indignantly lisped, crossing her bandaid-covered arms over her camouflage hoodie.

With a sad look in his eyes, the man humored his daughter's request, "I guess you are old enough to find your dorm by yourself, Valentine. It seemed like just yesterday that you were a baby..." However before her father could get to far into his never ending tirade, Valentine sighed, exasperated, "Dad, you give me thith thpeech all the time! Can you pleathe go now?" Ouch, she hadn't meant for it to come out so harsh, but the damage was done. With a ruffle of Valentine's short brown hair he left, bringing her outspoken mother in tow.

Only one family member remained, Valentine's beloved grandfather. She hugged him close, knowing that it would probably be a long time before she saw him next. With that over with, Valentine turned to walk through the school's double doors. However, her grandfather stopped her, "Valentine, give me the rifle."

"What? But how am I thuppothed to go hunting without my gun?" She cried out, arms flapping in angry gestures as she spoke. Her grandfather just shook his head, "You're going to this school to learn, not to play with guns. If you blow this opportunity because you're found with a gun, your parents and I will be very cross with you!"

Scowling, the tiny girl unzipped her red industrial-strength duffle bag and plucked her rifle out from it's place among her various hoodies and pairs of artfully ripped jeans. Her grandfather quickly tucked it under his arm and sighed, "The handgun too." Out came the pistol too, which Valentine kept under the leg of her jeans, and strapped to her ankle. "That'th it Grandpa."

"I know it is, sweetie. Be good now!" He smiled, his eyes betraying his sadness. Valentine called out, "I will Grampth! I will!" Already at the oaken double doors.

* * *

A boy so pale that he looked sick entered the dorms, taking off his wide black sunhat. His spiky red hair stuck up in all directions in an absolutely awful case of hat-hair. He blushed when he noticed this, quickly cramming the hat back onto his head. A black veil, akin to the one a mourning widow would wear, unfurled itself from the sunhat's brim, covering the boy's face.

A folding table had been set out, covered in alphabetically organized slips of paper and plastic cards. A bored looking girl manned the table, and drawled "Name?" Without even looking up from her phone. The boy replied in a soft voice, "Momoko Saiho." At that, the girl looked up, presumably to find Momoko's dorm assignment and ID card.

Unfortunately for Momoko, she caught sight of his ridiculous sunhat, and started to laugh outright! "Dude, what's with the fugly hat? Ha! This is goin' on Instagram*!" With that she lifted her phone and snapped a photo of a rather confused and angry Momoko.

"Huh? Wait! Hey! Uh, could I just have my papers please?" Momoko was flushed red from head to toe and wanted to crawl under a rock. As soon as the girl pushed forward his bundle of papers, Momoko ripped them off of the plastic folding table and ran for the stairs.

_Great, not exactly an auspicious beginning... _He thought, mentally cursing himself for bringing his silly hat. Later he'd be sure to trash it.

* * *

A tall man in a dapper James-Bond style suit hefted two black leather suitcases up the stairs. Although Craig had never considered himself strong, he was certainly not as weak as he now seemed. Every few steps, he had to stop and take a breath. Man- his head was killing him too.

It's the headache, Craig thought, it's making me into a weakling. To be quite truthful, the headache, and what it entailed was what was sapping the man's strength. As he reached his floor, Craig stumbled into his dorm room, which happened to be closest to the stairs. Quickly, he fell over onto the bare bed, falling into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

Unbeknownst to Craig, all of the other Enterprise Preparatory School freshmen had fumbled for their dorms in the same weakened stupor, collapsing into sleep.

**A/N:**

**Okay, so not all the characters are featured here (obviously,) and I will have a proper introductions chapter later. **

***I do not own, nor claim to own Instagram.**


End file.
